


A Little Sun

by SailorFish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Self-Doubt, The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorFish/pseuds/SailorFish
Summary: Nobody'dtoldBrand and Rune that the Hogwarts Sorting involved everyone just putting on a hat in alphabetical order. They would have prepared better if they’d known.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	A Little Sun

“St John, Brandon!” says Professor Tower in a loud, clear voice.

Brand and Rune startle up from their heated whispering; the glances they exchange are identical and terrified. Look, they just didn’t have enough _time_ , okay? Nobody tells first years how the Sorting works before they get to Hogwarts. It’s probably supposed to build character, or something.

When they’d begged, Rune’s dad – that is, the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Sun – had said something about marvellous traditions and quickly changed the subject; Rune’s mom – that is, the Lady of the etc – had simply smiled and reminded them she’d be proud no matter what House they ended up in. Brand is being fostered at Rune’s home, so he can’t ask his own parents. (And they’re only Muggles so they wouldn’t know anyway.)

Even worse were the older kids they played Quidditch with in the summer. Each one told them something different. Last week Dalton, a smug Ravenclaw fourth year and Professor Tower’s son, had said they’d have to fight a fucking _troll_. He’d been really convincing too.

Brand tears his eyes away from Rune’s anxious ones to glare up at Professor Tower instead. Okay, fighting a troll is way harder than putting on a stupid hat. But they’d _prepared_ for that troll. They’d worked out a plan and everything. Brand would have protected Rune’s back really well, and they’d have worked hard during the fight to seriously impress the professors, and then they would have just _had_ to be put into the same House together. Sorted.

They haven’t had time to work out a new plan while Professor Tower called out names from A to S. Especially when they realise that alphabetically, Brand will go first. Lord Sun had been a Gryffindor, Lady Sun a Ravenclaw. Is Brand supposed to just guess which one Rune will be?!

Suddenly, there’s a lump in his throat. It turns out his stupid Muggle parents didn’t even name him correctly before they got rid of him.

“St John, Brandon!” calls Professor Tower again, far less patient this time. He’s searching the crowd of first years for Brand’s black hair. It’s not like there’s any hiding from him (Brand’s first panicked idea) or pretending Rune is Brand so he can go first (Rune’s smarter but equally useless idea). Professor Tower visits Lord Sun pretty often; he knows who St John, Brandon is.

Brand still can’t bring himself to move forward until Rune actually pushes him.

Right. Rune is counting on him. He can do this! Lord and Lady Sun took him in when his parents had wanted nothing to do with their unnatural, freak, magical baby. They gave him the perfect home. All they ask for in return is for Brand to protect their son – which is something Brand wants to do anyway because Rune is the main reason this home is so wonderful. To protect him, Brand has to be in the same House as him. So: he _can_ do this, and he _will_ do this. Yeah!

He tries to give Rune one last reassuring smile, but it’s gone as soon as he faces forward again. Professor Tower doesn’t say a word when he finally reaches the three-legged stool. Brand slouches anyway, bracing himself against both the pointed silence and the Sorting Hat.

 _Alright, hat,_ he thinks grimly, _do your worst._

 _I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that_ , comes an amused voice in his mind.

Brand jumps a whole foot. It can only be the _hat_. The fucking _hat_ is talking to him in his _mind_. He resists the urge to rip it off immediately.

 _Language_ , it scolds.

Oh good, the thought-reading hat that will decide his future is a prissy stick-in-the-mud. Brand’s hands are clammy.

I _don’t decide your future_ , says (thinks?) the Sorting Hat a little reproachfully. _That is, I do. But I do it based on_ your _mind_. _Now shush, and let me take a look_.

He tries to shush. Except now that Brand has got over his shock of a thought-reading hat, his thoughts turn back to Rune. Do they have to think the same thing for the hat to put them in the same House? Could he mouth some instructions to him or something? _Rune, remember that Muggle video game your mom let us try once? Just think up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A and the Sorting Hat will_ have _to put you in with me!_

_You know I can hear you, right?_

Uh, right. (He’ll think of another password later.)

 _No matter where I look, all your thoughts turn to him eventually_. _He is like a little sun to you._

Well, duh – Brand is Rune’s _Companion_. That’s sort of the whole point.

 _Yes, you are his Companion_ , says the hat, and Brand can’t interpret its tone. _You’re the very epitome of a Hufflepuff, Brandon St John._

Wait, _no_.

Nononono.

Rune’s a lot of things, but he isn’t a Hufflepuff. That’s the loser House, and Rune’s not a loser. He can’t go to Hufflepuff all alone, without Rune. Brand’s hands were clammy before; now they’re positively slick with sweat. He can’t fail _already_.

 _You cannot fail a loyalty test by proving you’re too loyal,_ the hat begins.

Now Brand _can_ interpret its tone: it’s trying to fucking _soothe_ him, like he’s some stupid kid. Fucking fuck that. He tries to think. He can’t fucking think. (Language, scold both Lady Sun and the ha – wait.)

 _You said you don’t decide my future!_ Maybe Brand should be begging and wheedling right now, but he’s not. He’s yelling. _Don’t I get to choose?_

 _You do_ , agrees the hat.

 _Then I choose Ravenclaw_ , decides Brand spontaneously. Rune is Lord Sun’s heir, but he’s gentler than his dad, more like his mom, and he’s already read like five chapters of _Hogwarts: A History_.

 _But you don’t_ , says the hat. Still soothing. _You don’t choose Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor, or Slytherin or Hufflepuff. You choose_ him _. That makes you a –_

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

It’s over.

The table on the right erupts into cheers. Brand can barely hear them. He can’t hear, or see, or feel, much of anything. It’s over and he _failed_.

“Up you get, Brandon,” murmurs Professor Tower.

Brand must look exactly as dreadful as he feels; he has the oddest feeling that Professor Tower is trying to be nice.

He can’t look in Rune’s direction; if he meets his eyes, he might start hoping that Rune will choose the loser House with him. Instead, he trudges over to the cheering table and picks a seat at random. It turns out to be opposite a blond, cheerful second year with an Eastern European accent. As Rune’s name is called, he assures Brand that he’ll have time to hang out with his brother even if they’re not in the same House.

Except Rune isn’t Brand’s brother, and the sympathy doesn’t quiet the sick knot in his stomach.

Rune takes forever under the hat. Did it take this long for Brand to be sorted? It felt long, but as he sits there, staring at his empty plate, trying not to think, this feels even longer. Then the hat finally calls out:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Well.

It turned out he hadn’t crushed that little hope that Rune would choose him, Hufflepuff and all, after all.

But it’s Brand’s fault anyway. Even if he’d managed to cheat the hat, he’d got it wrong. Does that make his failure better or worse? The sorting of the other first years continues while Brand stews in his own misery. He thinks all those chocolate frogs he and Rune scarfed down, laughing, on the train might be about to hop right back up. And then a little ball of parchment hits him square in the forehead.

Brand blinks. He looks up – the blond second year is turning around to see where the “attack” came from – and realises the Gryffindors are on that side. He unfolds the parchment.

It says simply: _I’m sorry. I tried._

Rune’s scrawl has always been messy; Brand is the only one who can reliably read it. Brand looks up again, and finds Rune’s bright, worried eyes just a few feet away. He’s twisted around in his seat, facing away from his Housemates. Looking only at Brand. If Brand and the second year traded seats, he’d be close enough to touch. Rune’s still a Gryffindor, still a table away – but suddenly the chasm doesn’t seem quite as deep.

 _Me too_ , mouths Brand.

The smiles they exchange are tentative, but real.

(They’ll just have to get back at that fucking hat together later. Burn it, maybe. Yeah. Brand can’t wait.)

–*–*–

That’s the first time Rune’s ever lied to Brand.

He knows Brand wonders whether he lied sometimes, half-guesses it maybe. But he also knows Brand thinks it has something to do with his father – that Rune chose being his father’s perfect heir over being with Brand. He even knows that Brand would forgive him for it, if it was that.

He doesn’t spill his secret until they’re 17. By that point his father’s dead, and they’re on the run from Death Eaters, and Brand has already taken two Unforgivables for him.

 _Hufflepuff_ , he’d told the hat immediately, _Put me in Hufflepuff._

And the hat had gone still for a moment and then said quietly, _You are his everything. You will always be his everything. Will you not give him a few years to carve out just a little slice of his universe for himself?_

His Companion listens to that silently. Then, though he’s still weak from the Cruciatus, he socks Rune on the jaw. Brand won’t ever forgive him for, well, _choosing_ Brand over _being_ with Brand.

That’s okay. Rune won’t ever forgive himself for hesitating so long before he did.


End file.
